The Sky Opens Up

My mind recycles the same phrases
spinning stories out of moth-eaten yarn
a tether that breaks if I try to retrace
the circular steps I keep taking

Milky brightness spills across
the infinite black expanse of night sky
and all is silent in my soul again tonight
beneath the patient peace of moonlight

Crispy yellow paper, the final page
tender touch to close the tattered cover
the burnt smell of a candle blown out
tomorrow it's time to choose a new book

Look Up

Spring beginnings are bittersweet
a rotting smell rises with the heat
roadside carcass baked in sun
kept from hoping for what's to come

Backward glances, Jack Frost's shadow
the direction you face is where you'll go
the cruelty of youth is turning away
from sorrow, sickness, and slow decay

Life's still blooming, the sun persists
the trees don't wonder what they've missed
each breeze carries the powder of new pollen
raindrops don't resist where they've fallen

Final First Days

Final crisp air of the last days of winter
fragile, foolish hopes glisten with the frost
my life is cracking open to reveal a new season
finding shelter from sunlight in the cool moss

It's hard to keep turning pages when
the book seems halfway finished
making paper cranes with yellowed edges
translating words that weren't written in english

Skittish tip-toe steps towards the sunrise
unsure sounds of someone else, footsteps at my side
breathe me in deeply with the humid air of summer
protective ribcage sanctuary, by your heart I will reside

This is the New Year

The new year emerges under ice and snow
the shivering beauty of fresh starts
are still tangled with somber shadows

The new year reminds us that beginnings and endings
are both as sharp as the cutting winter wind
amid this season of death, space is made for the spring

The new year slips silently past the white horizon
bringing the bright, painful light of sober morning
to aching heads and rooms littered with good time debris

The new year offers a choice to change
the opportunity to bravely face another blank slate
a promise we can make ourselves to keep moving forward


Small comfort in tiny hands
you needed me to be someone
so much better than I am

The end of suffering can still be sad
I wish I could have given you
the life that you deserved

Death always comes in winter
when the ground is unforgiving
I wanted to lay you to rest peacefully

In the warm soil of summer
when covering your small form
wouldn't have felt so cruel

May you finally find rest
among the tangled roots
snaking beneath the earth

I try to save the best for last
but my soul is overcast with
the heavy burden of knowing

Every ultimate end will be ugly
each life closes in vicious stillness and
the aching mystery of an empty vessel

Sorrow Rising

Sorrow rises like smoke
from the ashes of a dying love
it wiggles and writhes through the air
mimicking my desperation to avoid 
to postpone these violent pangs of pain
could things really be different
should I reconsider this decision
or am I just searching for relief
from this reality I do not want
which self should I trust
the one that has been unsatisfied
the one feeling frustration and misunderstanding
or should I trust the self that feels this parting
as a small death, as a gaping wound
in the end I'm left wondering
watching the fading embers
with fear in my heart
unsure of whether to keep watching 
or try to stoke that flame, that love
that was once my life